She knew he was standing in the doorway watching her, and she was idiotically self-conscious. She all but fell over the step on the way out, having to catch Millie’s arm to steady herself. Why on earth should a very plain policeman make her feel so-so conspicuous?
Three days later Charlotte was visiting the Abernathys’. She was there alone only because Sarah and Mama were but a hundred yards away round the corner at the vicar’s.
“Do have some more tea, Miss Ellison. It is so kind of you to visit us.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte pushed her cup forward a little. “It’s a pleasure to see you looking so much better.”
Mrs. Abernathy smiled gently. “Having young people in the house again helps. After Chloe died, no one came for such a long time. At least it seemed so. I suppose one cannot blame them. No one, least of all the young, wishes to visit a house in mourning. It is too much of a reminder of death, when one wishes to think of life.”
Charlotte wanted to comfort her, to prevent her feeling that Chloe’s friends were callous, thinking more of their own pleasure than her grief.
She leaned forward a little. “Perhaps they did not wish to intrude? When one is deeply shocked, one doesn’t know what to say. Nothing can make it better, and one is afraid to be clumsy and make it worse by saying something stupid.”
“You are very gentle, my dear Charlotte. I wish poor Chloe could have sought more friends like you, and not some of the foolish ones she did. It all began with that wretched George Ashworth-”
“What?” Charlotte so far forgot herself as to abandon all courtesy.
Mrs. Abernathy looked at her with slight surprise.
“I wish Chloe had not been quite so friendly with Lord Ashworth. I know he is a gentleman, but sometimes the real quality have some strange tastes and habits we wouldn’t approve of.”
“I didn’t know Chloe knew Lord Ashworth.” Charlotte was troubled now. Emily’s determined little face kept coming into her mind. “Did she know him well?”
“A great deal better than her father and I would have wished. But he was charming, and titled. You can’t tell young girls.” She blinked several times.
Charlotte would have liked to leave the subject-she knew it could only cause pain where the wound was already deep-but for Emily’s sake she had to know.
“Do you think he treated Chloe badly, that he was less than frank with her affections?”
“Mr. Abernathy gets very angry with me for saying this,” her face pinched, “but I believe that if Chloe had not known that man she would be alive today.”
Charlotte felt as if she were entering a dark corridor, as if its shadows were closing in on her.
“Why do you say that, Mrs. Abernathy?”
Mrs. Abernathy leaned forward, clutching at Charlotte’s arm.
“Oh, please don’t repeat it, Charlotte! Mr. Abernathy says I could end up in the most terrible trouble if I say too much!”
Charlotte closed her other hand over Mrs. Abernathy’s, gripping her firmly. “Of course I won’t. But I would like to know why you consider George Ashworth such a bad influence. I have met him, and although I didn’t care for him, I would not have judged him as ill as you seem to.”
“He flattered Chloe into believing all sorts of things that could not come true, that were not true of her station in life. He took her to places where there were women of low morals.”
“How do you know? Did Chloe say so?”
“She told us a little. But I heard it from others who saw them there. A gentleman friend of Mr. Abernathy’s told him he had seen Chloe where he did not expect to see any daughter of a respectable family.”
“And this friend is truthful? Not given to misunderstanding or exaggeration? And has no cause for spite, no wish to damage Chloe’s reputation?”
“Oh, none at all. The most upright of men! Good gracious!”
“Then forgive me, but what was he doing in such a place as you describe?”
Mrs. Abernathy looked confused for a moment.
“My dear Charlotte, it is quite different for men! It is perfectly-acceptable for a gentleman to frequent places that a woman of good moral character would not go to. We all have to accept these things.”
Charlotte was loath to accept any such thing at all, but there was no proper way of arguing it now.
“I see. And you feel Lord Ashworth may have led Chloe into unfortunate company, and even tempted her to practices not acceptable to her, or to anyone of decent upbringing?”
“Yes, I do. Chloe was not really part of his world. And I think she died because he tried to make her part of it.”
“Let me not misunderstand you, Mrs. Abernathy. Are you saying that you think either Lord Ashworth, or someone in his circle, killed Chloe?”
“Yes, Charlotte, I believe it. But you have promised not to say that I said so! Nothing can bring Chloe back, and we cannot be revenged against such people.”
“One can prevent them from doing it again!” Charlotte said angrily. “And, in fact, one has a duty!”
“Oh, but, Charlotte, please, I do not know anything. It is just my foolish feeling. Perhaps I am quite wrong, and I should be doing a great injustice!” She was on her feet now, anxious, flapping her hands. “You gave me your promise!”
“Mrs. Abernathy, my own sister Emily is currently in acquaintance with Lord Ashworth. If what you say is true, how can I take no interest in your feelings, whether they are accurate or not? I promise you I will say nothing, unless I feel Emily to be in danger. Then I cannot keep silent.”
“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Abernathy sat down sharply. “Oh, my dear Charlotte! What can we do?”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said frankly. “Have you told me everything you know, that you either know for sure or have reason to suspect?”
“I know that he drinks too much, but then gentlemen often do. I know that he gambles, but I imagine he can afford to. I know that poor Chloe was enamoured of him, that he swept her off her feet and she saw in him all sorts of romantic dreams. I know he took her with him into his social world where standards are quite different from ours, and where they do all kinds of terrible things for amusement. And I believe if she had stayed among her own kind, gentlemen of moderate means and respectable family, she would not now be dead.” The tears were running down her face as she stopped at last. “Forgive me.” She reached for her handkerchief and began to cry quietly.
Charlotte put her arms round her and held her tightly. She felt a terrible pity for her because there was nothing she could do, and guilt because she had raked it all up again and made her talk of it. Charlotte held on to her, rocking a little, as if Mrs. Abernathy were a child, not a woman her mother’s age.
On the way home she could think of nothing to say to her mother or to Sarah, but they were too busy with their own concerns to notice. All evening she sat almost silent, replying only when necessary, and then somewhat at random. Dominic made one or two comments on her absentmindedness, but even for him she could not abandon her anxiety.
If Mrs. Abernathy were right, then George Ashworth was not merely reprobate but positively dangerous, and might even be implicated in murder. It seemed stretching reason too far to suppose the existence of more than one murderer in Cater Street; therefore, he must have also killed Lily and the Hiltons’ maid, if indeed he were actually involved. Perhaps several of his friends in drunken madness had waylaid. . The thought was appalling.
But the worst consideration was Emily. Might not Emily, however much she wished not to, somehow become aware of his guilt? And if she did, and betrayed her knowledge in his presence, perhaps she too would be found dead in the street?
But Charlotte had no proof. Perhaps it was all in the imagination of Mrs. Abernathy, distorted by grief, desperately needing someone to blame, preferring any answer to the unknown. And if Charlotte told Emily her suspicions, without proof, Emily would surely disbelieve them, and with some heat. She might even, in defiance, tell George Ashworth, just to prove her trust in him, and thus provoke her own death.
What was the right thing to do? She looked round their faces as they all sat in the withdrawing room after dinner. Whose advice could she ask? Papa was looking at the newspaper, his face grim. He was very probably reading about the stock market. He would be ill-disposed to interruptions at the moment, and he had appeared to approve of Ashworth.
Mama was embroidering. She looked pale. Grandmama had not yet forgiven her for her fears over Papa and
